Legend of the Seventh Virgin (20 page)

Seated at this table, peeling potatoes, was Mrs. Pengallon, who had been cook-housekeeper at the farm since the death of Mrs. Pengaster, a large comfortable-looking woman who at the moment seemed unusually melancholy. Hetty was in the kitchen, ironing a blouse.

“Well,” said Hetty as we entered, “bless me if it ain’t Kerensa Carlee. My dear life, we be honored. Come in. That’s if you bain’t too grand for the likes of we.”

“Get along with ’ee,” put in Mrs. Pengallon. “’Tis only Kerensa Carlee. Come in, m’dear, and tell me if you’ve seen my Tabs about.”

“You’ve lost your cat then, Mrs. Pengallon?” I asked, ignoring Hetty.

“These last two days, m’dear. ’Tis so unlike him. Out all day he’s been before now, but always home come suppertime … always purring for his saucer of milk.”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m worrit like, wondering what can have become of him. I can’t but think he be caught in some trap like. ’Tis a terrible thing to have happened, m’dear, and I can’t get it out of my mind. I’ve been wondering whether to come along to see your Granny. Maybe she could tell me something. She have done wonders like for Mrs. Toms. Her breathing be that much better and all her did was as your Granny said — took the webs of spiders, rolled ’em into a ball and swallowed ’em. Magic, I do reckon it to be and your Granny’s a wonderful woman.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “she’s a wonderful woman.”

“And you tell her when you next see her that I’ve had no more trouble with that stye on my eye since I rubbed Tabs’ tail on it as she did say. Oh, my poor little Tabs! Where he be to, I can’t think; and it’s no rest for me till he be found.”

“Perhaps he’s being fed somewhere else, Mrs. Pengallon,” I suggested.

“I don’t think so, m’dear. He knows his own home. He’d never stay away so long. Regular home lover, that’s my Tabs. Oh my dear life, if he’d only come back to me!”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” I told her.

“And ask your Granny if she can help me.”

“Well, Mrs. Pengallon, I’m not going back there just now.”

“Oh no,” put in Hetty maliciously. “You be working up at the Abbas now, along of Doll and Daisy. Doll’s pretty near courting our Tom, so she tells us all about it. My dear life, I wouldn’t care to work for that family.”

“I don’t think it likely that you’ll have the opportunity,” I retorted.

Reuben, who had been standing watching us closely as we talked, joined in Hetty’s laughter.

I said coldly: “I came to bring your herbs.”

Hetty seized on them and thrust them into the pocket of her gown, and I turned to go.

“And don’t ’ee forget to ask your Granny,” said Mrs. Pengallon. “I don’t rest o’ nights wondering what have happened to my Tabs.”

It was then that I intercepted the look between Hetty and Reuben. I was startled because it seemed to me … evil. They were sharing some secret, and I fancied that while it was amusing to them it would not be so to others.

I had a great desire then to get out of the Pengaster kitchen.

I was too immersed in my own affairs to notice what was happening to Mellyora. I would often hear raised voices in the rooms near my own and I guessed that Judith was upbraiding her husband for some supposed negligence; these scenes were becoming a little monotonous and although I did not dislike my mistress, my sympathy — if my feeling went deep enough to be given such a description — was for Justin, even though he scarcely ever addressed me, and the only time he seemed conscious of my presence was when Judith embarrassed him by her excessive shows of affection. I did not believe he cared greatly for his wife and I could well imagine how tiresome it must be to have someone continually demanding affection.

Still, it was a state of affairs which I accepted and did not notice the rising tension, nor the effect it was having on the three people concerned: Justin, Judith and … Mellyora. Being so self-centered, I forgot temporarily that Mellyora’s life could take as dramatic a turn as my own.

Two things happened which seemed of great importance.

The first was my casual discovery of what had happened to Mrs. Pengallon’s cat. It was Doll who betrayed the information. She asked me if Granny would make some complexion herbs for her like those she had given Hetty Pengaster. I said that I knew what they were and next time I went to see Granny I would bring some for her, and happened to mention that when I delivered Hetty’s, Mrs. Pengallon was worried about her cat.

Doll started to giggle. “’Er won’t never see that cat again,” she said.

“I expect he’s found a new home.”

“Yes, underground!”

I looked at Doll questioningly and she shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, twas Reuben killed him. I was there when he done it. Proper wild he were. The old cat got one of his pigeons … and
he
got the old cat. Killed it he did with his bare hands.”

“And now he daren’t tell Mrs. Pengallon!”

“Reuben says it serves her right. She knew the old cat was after his pigeons. You know the pigeon loft and house? There be a little square garden behind it, and he buried the pigeon there … and the cat too. One the martyr, he did say. One the murderer. He were real mazed that day, I do declare.”

I changed the subject but I did not forget; and that day I went to see Granny, and told her about the cat and what I had discovered. “He’s buried at the back of the pigeon house,” I told her. “So if Mrs. Pengallon asks you, you’ll know.”

Granny was pleased. She talked to me then of her reputation as a wise woman, and explained the importance of noticing everything that happened. No little detail in life should be ignored; because one never knew when it would be needed.

I did not take Doll’s herbs with me on that occasion because I did not want her to think I had seen Granny; and the very next day Mrs. Pengallon called on Granny, begging her to use her magic and find the cat.

Granny was able to direct her to the little garden behind Reuben’s pigeon house and when Mrs. Pengallon saw the recently disturbed ground and found the body of her beloved cat, she was filled with rage against his killer and grief for the loss of her pet. But when these emotions subsided a little, she was overwhelmed by admiration for Granny’s skill; and for a few days the main topic in the cottages was the power of Granny Bee.

Gifts began to arrive on her doorstep and there was a real feast in the cottage. I went to see her and we laughed together over what had happened. I believed I had the wisest Granny in the world and I was determined to be like her.

I took back Doll’s herbs and so great was her belief in them that they were completely effective and the spots on her back, for which she needed them, completely disappeared.

Granny was possessed of supernatural powers. Granny was aware of events which she could not possibly have witnessed; she could cure ailments. She was a person to be reckoned with; and as everyone knew how she doted on me, I must be treated with especial care.

And the fact that we ourselves had brought about this state, by turning a little good fortune to advantage, was doubly gratifying.

My dream of achieving all that I had set out to do was back with me. I believed that I could not fail.

We were seated at the table having supper. It had been an exhausting day. Judith had been riding with Justin and they had set off in the early morning, she looking charming in her pearl-gray habit with the little touch of emerald green at the throat. When she was happy she looked very beautiful and she was contented on that day because Justin was with her. But I knew that she could not be contented for long; always she was watchful and some small gesture, some inflection of Justin’s voice could set her wondering if he were growing tired of her. Then the trouble would start; she would ask interminable questions; she would demand passionately whether he loved her still, how much he loved her. I had heard her raised voice and his low one. The more intense she grew, the more remote he was. I did not think he handled her as well as he might; I believed he was aware of this, for sometimes I saw the relief in his face when she left a room.

But that morning they had set off in good spirits, and I was delighted because this meant that I would have some time to myself. I would go and see Granny; it was useless to hope for a little time with Mellyora, because Lady St. Larnston saw that she was kept busy all the day through. Poor Mellyora! My lot was easier than hers; yet at times I thought she looked supremely happy — at others I was not sure. But one thing I did know; she was growing more beautiful since we had come to the Abbas.

I spent the morning with Granny and in the early afternoon Judith came back alone. She was distraught, so much so that she confided in me — I suppose because she felt the need to talk to someone.

She and Justin had ridden over to her family for luncheon. Afterwards they had left together and, and … She paused and I guessed that they had quarreled. I pictured them having luncheon in the gloomy house; perhaps her mother was there, a little vague — and they would be wondering all the time what she would do next. That house was full of shadows and the legend of the monster would be hanging over it. I imagined Justin wishing he had never married her, perhaps wondering why he ever had. I pictured him making some remark which upset her — then the passionate demands for him to show his affection, and the quarrels.

They would have left Derrise together and he angrily would whip up his horse and ride away from her — anything to escape; and she would weep. I could see she had been weeping. Too late she would try to follow him, would realize that she had lost him, and then begin to wonder where he was.

She had come back to the Abbas to find him and when he was not there she was overcome by jealous anxiety.

I was mending one of her gowns when she burst in on me.

“Kerensa,” she said, for she had guessed that I objected to being called by my surname and this was one of the charms about her that she had a wish to please everybody, providing doing so made no great demands upon her. “Where is the companion?”

“Miss Martin?” I stammered.

“Of course. Of course. Where is she? Find her … at once.”

“You wish to speak to her?”

“Speak to her. No. I wish to know if she is here.”

I understood. I wondered fleetingly if Justin might be with Mellyora. What a calm and pleasant companion Mellyora would seem after this demanding, passionate woman. In that moment it did occur to me that a dangerous situation was arising — not for me, except that whatever touched Mellyora must touch me too, for our lives had become intermingled. I might have brooded on this — but for what was soon to follow and which affected me more personally.

I said quietly that I would see if I could find Mellyora. I took my mistress back to her room and made her lie down on her bed and left her.

It did not take me long to find Mellyora; she was in the garden with Lady St. Larnston who was picking roses. Mellyora walked beside her carrying the basket and the clippers. I could hear Lady St. Larnston’s imperious orders and Mellyora’s meek responses.

So I was able to go back to my mistress and tell her that Mellyora was in the garden with her employer.

Judith relaxed but she was exhausted. I was rather alarmed because I thought she was going to be ill. Her head ached, she told me, and I massaged her forehead and rubbed in eau de Cologne. I drew the curtains and left her to sleep but she did not rest for more than ten minutes before she needed me again.

I had to brush her long hair which, she said, soothed her, and every time we heard a movement below she would rush to the window hoping, I knew, that it was Justin returned.

This was a situation which could not go on. Something must happen sooner or later to change it. It was like the gathering of a storm; and it was natural that storms should break. I was beginning to be a little uneasy about Mellyora.

And that was how I was feeling when I went down to the hall to take supper with my fellow servants. I was tired because Judith’s emotions had in some measure been communicated to me and Mellyora was a great deal in my thoughts.

I knew as soon as I sat down that Mrs. Rolt had some news which she was longing to tell us; but it was typical of her that she held back the titbit for as long as possible. When she was eating she would always leave the best pieces on her plate until the end and it amused me to watch her eying them with anticipation while she ate. That was how she looked now.